Annabeth POV

I was so glad, my room was next to the fire escape.

That way, I could just walk up the fire escape to get to my room, totally avoiding the crappy doorman, my ignorant father, and my terrible, terrible step-mom, Helen.

She was my worst nightmare. She beats the hell out of me. All. The. Time. I spend most of my life locked in my room. It was better back in California. She kept her distance then, when we had a fairly big house. Ever since we moved into our new apartment, she had been taking all her anger out of me. I have a giant bruise on my stomach, where she kicked me during our last fight.

I walked in the apartment. It was the second to last day of summer, and we had been here a couple of months.

My step-mother stepped in front of me immediately, smiling like a mad woman.

"Hmmmm," she said, "Your father's not home."

I didn't wince, shake, or gag at her breath. My pride wouldn't let me.

She smelled like alcohol, and even though I'd never seen her drink, I knew she did sometimes.

I yelped in surprise as she brought her hand across my face. Tears sting my eyes, but they didn't fall.

Pride.

Then she kicked me, and I screamed.

"Annabeth?" my two twelve year old twin brothers, Bobby and Mathew, walked into the room, looking confused.

"Run," I said, gasping for breath, "She's drunk."

She kicked me again, in the same spot.

"I AM NOT!" She screamed.

Bobby raced over to me. Tears stung his eyes. And then she kicked him, too. Her own son.

Why?

He yelped in pain, and I somehow managed to sit up, and wrap him in a hug. He hid his face in the crook of my neck, sobbing.

I braced for the next impact. And it hurt. So bad. When she kicked me in the side of the head.

I almost lost consciousness.

That's when dad opened the door.

That's when Helen's eyes went wide with fear, as I slumped against his legs, and blacked out, Bobby still tight in my arms.

When I woke up, I was greeted by yelling. I had been placed on the couch, Bobby and Mathew on either side of me.

My head hurt like hell, and Bobby and Mathew hugged me, sobbing. I stood up, slowly. My entire body ached.

I walked them straight out the door, and we ate lunch at a Starbuck's just down the block.

Tears streamed down my face, and I sat down on my bed, sobbing.

I hated being so vulnerable like this. I was full of pride. This...this was not pride.

Percy POV

"What's wrong with you?" Thalia asked me, for the thirtieth time today.

I was sitting on the couch of our penthouse suite. Thalia sat down on the edge of the fire place, staring at me.

"For the last time, NOTHING IS WRONG!" I said, getting pretty annoyed.

"We both know that's not true," Thalia said, sighing.

"Well...I don't know!" I said throwing my hands into the air and getting up off the couch.

"I'm...just...confused," I said, walking up the stairs.

I slammed the door of my room and locked it. I flopped onto my bed. Lost in thought.

Are you as confused as I am?

We're basically the same person...?

Oh...yeah.

So. She's beautiful, smart, and secretive. Ugh! Why am I even thinking about this? We just met today!

Because she was one of the only girls who didn't flip out because you're the Percy Jackson.

No.

What?

Well, yes, that's part of it, but...I sort of, feel connected to her, but I just met her, and this sounds crazy.

You know what else is crazy.

What?

You're talking to yourself.